Mother had once asked Pops if he would have to go away again to fight this war.
‘Ye gods,’ he’d replied in a startled manner. ‘No chance of that! Service in seventeen was my lifetime’s contribution.’
‘War is easier to make than peace, Nicky,’ Mother returned on a sigh. ‘People still clamour for it. To our own son war appears heroic and dashing. But we know the truth of it, don’t we?’
Daisy, observing carefully, had watched Mother smile. Yet underneath the wing of her light brown hair swept back from her pensive face, the frown had deepened.
As it often seemed to these days.
CHAPTER 2
DAISY BLINKED, putting aside these distracting thoughts as the peaceful moment resumed. If she was to be asked, which wasn’t often, since it was usually Daisy who was doing the questioning, what she thought of her new home she would have said that gradually, she and her new home had become friends. At first they had both been unwilling to grasp a new future. An elderly headmistress, Miss Ayling, its previous occupant, had left an air of order and obedience about the place. Quite the opposite, Daisy reflected, to the dusty, creaky rooms of the old Wattcombe house, where everyone came and went without bothering to wipe their boots. But here - well, this was another kettle of fish altogether!
‘Living in London is the chance of a lifetime,’ her father had encouraged on the day they’d moved in. ‘We have a new home to enjoy. The city to explore and the river, the greatest in the world, bringing trade from all nations, right to our doorstep!’
‘But all our savings have gone, Nicky. We have nothing behind us.’ This from Mother who was not at all enthusiastic about the expense of leaving Wattcombe.
‘I’m an engineer, Flo. I put things together. Make them work. The factory is where I should be.’
‘You did very well as Wattcombe’s estate manager. We enjoyed a comfortable living.’
’Is that how you saw us existing for the rest of our lives?’ her father had argued. ‘Tenants of the landed gentry, under the thumb until we grew old?’
‘What is so wrong with that?’
‘Come on Flo,’ he’d urged, ‘you know I was hopeless in the country. This damn gammy leg had me stuck behind a desk all day - ’
’I know,’ her mother had interrupted, ‘that you are supremely talented and just aching to make the world’s next unrivalled discovery with your electrical valves. But we have a growing family. Expenses to be met. Bills to be paid.’
Daisy had overheard this almost-quarrel as she’d played in the garden, attempting - and failing - to find as many nooks and crannies to hide in as there had been in the country. The convenient wind had blown the almost-quarrel her way. Once she’d got into the gist of things, she knew that life for her parents was not all they pretended it to be. Now the matter had come up in an almost-quarrel on the very first day of their new existence.
‘Ed’s my best pal as well as my brother,’ Pops reasoned. ’I trust him. He wouldn’t invite me into the business if it wasn’t financially feasible.’
‘He wouldn’t ask you unless he needed our savings.’
Daisy had cramped inside at the bitter tone of her mother’s voice.
‘That’s not fair, Flo.’
‘Not fair, perhaps, but true.’
After a short pause, ‘I’m sorry you still miss Wattcombe, my darling. I know your family is there, well, at least, Pat and your mother. But we go back to visit, don’t we? Just as I promised before we moved to London.’
‘I’m not complaining, Nicky.’
‘Just consider the benefits our current situation has to offer,’ Pops suggested. ‘Poplar Park Row is quiet and untroubled. We are not isolated as we were in Wattcombe. And we even have a plumbed in bathroom upstairs!’ He laughed, but when Mother remained silent he added coaxingly, ‘Bobby and Daisy are happy at their new school. London’s West End is only twenty minutes drive away and the factory a few minutes walk. Once Ed and I have patented our new valves we’ll be in profit. All our money problems will be solved.’
‘I hope so, Nicky,’ Mother had conceded. ‘I really do hope so.’
Her parents had gazed at each other, like eager swimmers diving into a pool. Often their affection was so intimate, that Daisy could not bear to look.
Instead, she had hurried back to her bedroom and gazed out of the window across the river to the needle tops of the goose-necked cranes. Here, she was restored by the sight of her new world and the silhouette of Uncle Ed’s factory puffing grey smoke from its chimneys like a slumbering dragon.
Her dream was that one day she would board a fine ship sailing down the river. Sail off to a country like Neverland. Oh, she knew quite well that Neverland was made-up. Wendy and Peter were not real. But what counted was how you felt when you set your imagination free. Without a doubt, there must be somewhere in the world where there was no talk of war or threat. A world of discovery and excitement where she would never get bored again.
Daisy found herself in the kitchen, where a black-leaded stove stood opposite the sink positioned directly below the window. An oblong table covered by a cream cloth stood in front of an oak sideboard. On its wooden shelves stood a variety of the headmistress’s fine china. On the far wall was the pantry where the faint perfumes of cinnamon and spices
